


Whiteout

by philos_manthanein



Series: Daddy Issues [2]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, Blood, Emotions, Feelings Realization, Incest, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 20:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18677197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philos_manthanein/pseuds/philos_manthanein
Summary: Vergil makes a lot of questionable choices.(Sequel to Blackout.)





	Whiteout

**Author's Note:**

  * For [epyonics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/epyonics/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [【翻译】Whiteout](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18957592) by [SoNotMotivated (Alucard1771)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alucard1771/pseuds/SoNotMotivated)



> Once again big thanks to epyonics for editing and also striving for over a decade to get me into this goddamned series in the first place.

The sun is setting, but it’s still so warm outside. The air penetrates Vergil’s clothing. It’s breezy up here, atop some half-ruined shell of an apartment building. But the wind is warm, too. It pushes its way through his hair and rustles the tail-end of his coat. 

If Nero knows Vergil is here, he doesn’t react. His son sits quietly with his legs dangling off the edge of the roof. Vergil doesn’t feel any instinct to tell him to move, though he knows to a lesser person such a place would be dangerous. He knows - in some measure - a parent would want to be protective. But he also knows Nero likely wouldn’t listen to him either.

As Vergil steps closer he can see more of Nero. How he holds his head low. How his arms are folded inward, as if he’s holding something in his lap. The breeze shuffles Nero’s short hair and ripples across his jacket. Nero curls in on himself a little more, arms moving slightly. Vergil steps closer still, until he can see what it is that Nero seems to be holding.

Ah, the book. 

Vergil is not entirely surprised to see his son flipping through it. He does note that Nero doesn’t linger too long on any particular page. Certainly he’s not spending time to appreciate the verses, instead running his fingers over the calligraphy and illuminations. 

Nero is searching for something beyond the words. Searching for V.

Nero closes the book. He runs a palm over the cover, sighing. Then he holds it up in the air by it’s spine, waving it at Vergil but not looking at him directly.

“You said you’d come back for this.” Nero addresses his father, still looking forward across the city. 

The pinkish gold of the setting sunlight clings to the book’s cover, spilling over Nero’s hand, his arm, his neck, his hair… Vergil thinks Nero is beautiful. It’s only natural that he would be, isn’t it? 

“Yes,” Vergil nods even though Nero can’t see it, “I did.”

Nero’s shoulders fall slightly. “So why haven’t you?”

Vergil clicks his tongue against his teeth at the petulant tone in his son’s voice. “It’s useless to me, right now. I don’t need it.”

Nero  _ does _ , however. Vergil knows how desperately Nero wants to cling to his memories of V. He knows how much Nero treasured V, and that it wasn’t simply a one-sided infatuation either. He still has V’s memories and experience rolling around inside his brain. At times they’re overwhelmingly saccharine, clashing with logic and reason, making Vergil himself want for all the things V did. 

But Vergil cannot give V back to Nero, even if he wanted to. He’s tried to explain this before, but Nero is too undisciplined to listen. So Vergil has tried to explain with his body too, but that betrays him as well. Nero’s skin against his always enlightens unwanted memories, drawing out the overwhelming - but not entirely unwelcome - sensitivities left like a stain on his nerves by V. 

So Vergil wants Nero to keep the book. To cherish and admire it - like it deserves to be - even if it’s for a reason different from the way Vergil, or V, treasured it. Even if Nero has no sense of appreciation. Even if he only asks questions Vergil cannot really answer.

“You always throw away shit that’s useless to you?” Nero seethes, gripping the spine tighter. 

“That’s what one usually does, isn’t it?” Vergil questions him back.

There’s a small moment of anticipation that springs within Vergil’s chest, where he wonders if Nero will toss the book away, fling it carelessly into the street hundreds of feet below. But he doesn’t. Vergil realizes it was foolish to expect that. Nero sighs and lowers his hand, sliding the book inside his jacket near his chest. 

“V was important to you,” Vergil muses out loud, “Would that mean that I am, too?”

Nero snorts an indignant laugh. “I dunno,  _ dad _ . Am  _ I _ important to  _ you _ ?”

Silence hangs between them, punctuated only by the swirling wind. Vergil rolls his tongue in his mouth, thinking. Finally, he replies:

“At the moment.”

Then Nero turns, swinging his feet back onto the rooftop. He stands up, finally looking at Vergil with an angry, piercing stare. Vergil dislikes it.

“You’re so… Ugh…” Nero seethes again, obviously struggling to phrase what he wants to say.

Vergil waits patiently. He takes in the sight of his son practically vibrating with rage. Nero’s hands clench tight at his sides, feet apart with his heels dug in. His jaw is tight and rigid. His crystalline eyes are full of so much malice that for a moment Vergil feels a flicker of excitement rise in his chest. Hot-headed and intemperate, full of lust and bloodlust and wildly swinging needs; Vergil thinks he can almost smell emotions radiating from Nero’s person. 

The sun ducks behind Nero, leaving only reaching rays that outline him in gold. He’s beautiful in a way that makes Vergil proud, like an artist admiring his own painting in a gallery. It’s a shame that it would go to waste on anyone who can’t appreciate its real value. Vergil wants to reclaim Nero.

“Stupid.” Nero finally bites out.

“Excuse me?” Vergil inclines his head.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Nero reiterates as he walks forward, “All you ever do is make these stupid fucking choices and you don’t even fucking care what happens, do you?!”

Vergil stands still listening to Nero’s tantrum. When Nero gets into his face - spitting with rage - Vergil stays placid, staring forward into Nero’s narrowed eyes.

“What’s the point?!” Nero continues yelling as he shoves his hands against Vergil’s chest and growls when Vergil doesn’t budge. “Everything you do is so fucking pointless!”

“You can’t unders-” Vergil tries to answer his son’s petulant screaming, but Nero cuts him off impatiently.

“I don’t care! God!” Nero shoves him again and this time Vergil decides to take a step back. “You just think about yourself! You take and take and then you just fucking throw it away?!” Nero shoves him again and Vergil takes another stride back, otherwise not reacting. “You come back after years just to what? Kill Dante? Why?! You couldn’t even fucking do  _ that _ right! It’s pointless! You’re so fucking stupid and pointless!”

Nero tries to throw a punch and Vergil moves away from it. Another one swings with the other arm and Vergil dodges it again. Now they’ve reversed sides, with Vergil standing with his back to the horizon, near the edge of the roof. 

“Nero,” Vergil finally speaks again, “Your  _ pointless  _ anger isn’t going to bring V back.”

It’s not a surprise that Nero lets out a guttural scream at that. A tortured “FUCK YOU” that echoes off the surrounding skyscrapers. Vergil dislikes Nero’s crying. But he knows - even if he doesn’t quite understand - that his son is more emotionally fragile than he’d like others to know. Vergil has seen it in the few intimate moments they’ve shared. He knows that when Nero lays with him it’s only because he’s yearning for V.

It’s also not a surprise when Nero rushes him, ready to swing another punch despite knowing Vergil could easily duck it, too. This time Vergil grabs Nero by the wrist before it lands. The kinetic power behind it is more than Vergil expected. Nero’s whole body is shaking as his momentum is halted. Vergil notices they’re both engulfed in blue light, then he notices the spectral arms that have unfurled from Nero’s back.Vergil shifts his sight back to Nero’s eyes, seeing them slowly bleed new color and tremble with his anger, wet streaks rolling over the blue veins bubbling across his cheeks.

Beautiful. Nero is stunning and dangerous. Vergil couldn’t be more proud.

Vergil keeps his grip on Nero’s wrist, feeling the skin changing shape against his palm. He takes a step back, pulling Nero with him.

“What are you doing?!” Nero growls, his voice crawling with shifting tones.

“Making another stupid, pointless decision.” Vergil replies plainly. 

Then Vergil pulls Nero close, wrapping both arms around him. Nero immediately tries to wrench himself away, clawing at Vergil’s arms and chest. But it’s too late, they’re falling. 

The rushing air feels like a blanket at Vergil’s back; a misleading sort of comfort that he’s felt before. It really only takes seconds, but in that time Nero shifts back, losing his transformation and instead clinging tight to Vergil. Nero cries out so viscerally, all of his rage supplanted by fear. Vergil has half of a second to delight in that, before they slam into the asphalt. 

Bones shatter, but then they heal. Skin ruptures, but then stitches itself back together. Skulls crack and bleed and everything goes dark for a while, but then eyes open again. The headache lasts, but that too fades with time.

“Fucking,” Nero chokes, shaking as he lifts himself off of his father, “Demon magic.”

Vergil smiles. He remembers a time when he hated it, too. Perhaps part of him still does, especially the kind that others possess and try to use against him. 

“Why’d you d-do that?” Nero wheezes.

Vergil can feel Nero sit up, but he stays straddling Vergil’s waist with a hand planted on his chest. There’s a tremor radiating from Nero’s limbs, which is to be expected when he’s freshly healing. Vergil looks up at Nero. Fresh blood shines on his pale skin where it falls from his nose and open mouth. It stains Nero’s ratty shirt. It even dribbles onto Vergil’s abdomen. Vergil can taste his own blood too, and wonders what he must look like to Nero. He took the majority of the fall, after all. He doubts Nero appreciates that. 

“You were-”

-hurting, Vergil thinks.

“- a hazard,” Vergil says. “ And I-”

-wanted to make it stop-

“-needed to put you down.”

“Stupid.” Nero replies as he wipes his hand over his mouth and then wipes the blood on Vergil’s jacket.

Feeling at least moderately capable of moving again, Vergil brings himself to sit up. Nero slides down his body as he does. But Vergil doesn’t want Nero to move too far away, so he places his hands on Nero’s hips, encouraging his son to stay seated on his lap. It’s a position that rattles V’s memories within him, telling him how Nero had once held V just like this.

“Nero,” Vergil keeps his voice low, “I can’t ever be V for you.”

Nero grits his teeth and shuts his eyes tight. “I know that.”

“But you can have me.” Vergil continues, slow and circumspect, “You can let me be important to you.”

Nero lets out an anguished sort of breath. Then he lowers his head, gently pressing it against Vergil’s. It’s an intimate, needy gesture that makes Vergil’s chest suddenly feel tight. He tries to recall one of V’s memories to place this unknown feeling, but comes up empty. Maybe he’s still scrambled from the fall.

“Will you let me, too?” Nero asks, his copper-scented breath falling warm against Vergil’s mouth. “Or will you just throw me away when I’m useless?”

No, Vergil thinks.

“You’ll always be useful for something, I’m sure.” Vergil replies with just a hint of teasing. 

“Vergil,” Nero sighs, “Father… Please…”

Again that tight feeling wraps around Vergil’s chest. He knows he has to tell Nero what he wants to hear. Only now it seems like there is a truth in it that Vergil isn’t wholly capable of reconciling.

“You are important.” Vergil says as he tilts his head to brush his mouth against Nero’s, tasting their blood together.

Nero breathes warmly, his voice searching. “To you?” 

Yes, Vergil thinks.

“Yes.” Vergil says. 


End file.
